


A Kingdom, or This

by magic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Minor Spoilers, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Post-Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 10:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic/pseuds/magic
Summary: “I would always choose you, Dimitri,” he admits, the words stirring something inside of him. They mean much more than he can get across, but they’re all he has.A night spent together with one another, long since overdue.





	A Kingdom, or This

**Author's Note:**

> title from the captive prince series. this is set post chapter 17, before the main mission of 18. i kept spoilers/context as minor as possible. i feel somewhat ashamed that i haven't written fanfiction in years and when i do it's this, but what can you do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He’s long since tossed the gilded robes he’d once worn, the material bloody and covered with grime. The candles on his desk have burnt to half a wick, the letters hazy to his tired eyes. It’s as he’s begun to remove his armor, mind still racing with the battle hours before that Byleth’s attention is finally caught, too lost in thoughts to be alerted to the presence of someone else. 

Dimitri’s hand is at his wrist, and even though Byleth has yet to turn his face he knows that familiar grip all the same. The dull ache in his chest seems to grow as Dimitri’s fingers tighten, his other arm wrapping around Byleth’s shoulders, body pressed close. The cool armor elicits a violent shiver, Byleth nothing but soft clothes and battle bruised skin as the prince breathes hotly against his ear. 

“Professor,” he murmurs, as reverent as any prayer could be. When he presses himself impossibly close Byleth feels his body go limp with want, any halfhearted struggles an exercise in futility. 

It’s been too long, really. If that’s even the phrase for this. Their days before the battle at Garreg Mach seem so childish comparatively, their enemies yet unknown and their feelings left unsaid. It’s not as if Byleth does not remember the feeling of Dimitri’s teeth against his neck, but it’s a wholly different feeling as the prince bites hard enough to leave a bruise, earning a low groan from Byleth’s lips as he tries to remain upright. They both know that they are nothing like before, as Dimitri’s gloved fingers dragging themselves through Byleth’s unnatural hair, lips pressed against the spot where his neck meets his ear. 

Byleth can’t think, the desire pooling hotly in his stomach as Dimitri’s too-clothed hips buck up against the swell of his ass. It's not as if the prince’s brute strength had ever been a secret, but for once Dimitri doesn’t seem apologetic about allowing for it in his touch. He holds Byleth captive as if it were an easy feat, lifting him up bodily, his palm pressed against Byleth’s chest and the other holding him haphazardly by the waist. It seems as if Dimitri would be fine with this—having Byleth desperately press his growing hardness against the corner of his wooden desk—until he receives an elbow to his midsection. 

The apology almost immediately falls from Dimitri’s lips, hands moving from their spots. It’s enough to make Byleth’s eyes grow hot, the immediacy of the apology. While it’s true that the darkness had always been inside of Dimitri, it’s proof enough that the prince he fell for wasn’t only a facade—proof enough that he’d truly chosen to move forward, after everything. When Byleth reaches forward, grabbing for Dimitri’s hand to calm him, let him know that this is fine, he does so slowly, deliberately. 

“I shouldn’t have presumed-” Dimitri starts, his gaze attempting to escape Byleth’s unsuccessfully. It’s only as he finally meets Byleth’s determined eyes, his hand clasped between his teacher’s, that his shoulders slump, breath steadying. “You would?” he breathes out, not so much a question as an unfinished thought, still so uncertain of himself. 

It earns a rare smile from Byleth, a nod of the head before he settles himself on the desk. He cranes his head upwards, eyes bright as one arm wraps around Dimitri’s shoulders, brushing against the too large cape. Byleth gives a small laugh, too enamored with the sight before him. 

“I would always choose you, Dimitri,” he admits, the words stirring something inside of him. They mean much more than he can get across, but they’re all he has.

The change in Dimitri’s facial expression is something that Byleth could watch all day, his eyebrows relaxing, mouth opening for retort before closing again, the slightest blush on his regal cheeks before he nods his head, hair moving with him. Byleth simply cradles his face, lips pressing a sweet kiss to their pair.

“You’re mine,” Dimitri whispers, low and hot. Almost immediately Byleth feels himself nodding, knowing this to be true.

When Dimitri claims Byleth's lips for the second time it’s too much to bear. Dimitri moves purposefully, a mix of too much and not enough. He seems content in drowning himself in Byleth, and Byleth feels as if he’s being taken by force with just this—the clash of teeth and ragged breath, the strong palm steadying his back as Byleth allows himself to be kissed again and again. He almost forgets himself, mind hazy with it all. 

He’s missed Dimitri too much to fathom, but Dimitri seems intent on making up for lost time. When their lips finally part it’s only so Dimitri’s deft fingers can finish what Byleth had started, the tunic and gloves pulled from his body, kisses pressed against bare skin as Byleth tries to get his boots off. 

The feeling of Dimitri’s armor, cold with the Fargheus night, makes him groan with want even as Byleth desperately tries to take it off. His poor attempt earns a throaty chuckle from Dimitri, who simply lifts Byleth easily, face pressed against his professor’s neck as he carries him to the bed. “Patience, professor,” Dimitri says, his voice taking a playful edge to it that pulls at Byleth bodily, earning a moody groan from him. 

When Dimitri finally presses him against the sheets he’s gone again too quickly, leaving Byleth dizzy and aching with wanting. Sitting up is a mistake, the blood rushing from his head to his groin as his eyes fall on Dimitri undressing, the pale expanse of skin and rippling muscles enough to make Byleth cough, embarrassment reddening his ears as Dimitri’s gaze finds his once more. 

"What is it that you want, professor?" He asks, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants from his hips. They drop to the ground with a soft  _ thunk. _

It feels as if he's never spoken a single word in his life, and it takes all of Byleth to get a single one to fall from his lips, jaw aching and body wanting. "Dimitri," he pleads, attempting to hide his face in the crook of his elbow, the sight too much. 

Byleth attempts to steady himself even as he hears the movement of fabric, the jostling of the dresser, feels the weight of Dimitri as he settles himself on the bed. Dimitri finally pulls Byleth's arm, his other hand turning his face so that their gazes meet Byleth feels far too hot, his hardness painful and throbbing. Dimitri has yet to touch him again, other than the grasp on his forearm, although his face is close enough to kiss, a demanding look in his eye. 

"Touch me," Byleth whispers, grabbing for Dimitri's hand and pressing it against himself. He hisses, bucking his hips forward and closing the distance for a kiss, sloppy and ragged. Still, Dimitri does not kiss back in earnest, only letting Byleth rock shamelessly against his hand, body already shaking. 

"Dimitri," he whines, before kissing at his prince's neck, his lips pressing themselves against the scars, body trying to mold itself against Dimitri's battle born one. 

"Professor," he says once more, voice demanding and clear. 

"Touch me, fuck me, use me," Byleth spits out, the words pried from the deepest bases of him. He feels his world tilting already, and still Dimitri will not give him salvation. "Love me," he chokes, shuddering as his eyes grow hot, his hand entangling itself in those golden locks. "I'm yours, make me yours." 

Almost immediately, Dimitri consumes him. There is no hesitance in his motions, his lips pressing against Byleth's collarbone, tongue flitting against the skin there as his hand wraps itself around the two of them, their cocks pressed against the other. A growl reverberates against Byleth's ribcage, Dimitri's voice melding into his. Dimitri's grasp is almost painful as how he bites down hard enough to break skin, earning yet another groan. It's as he licks at the blood, slowing the torturous back and forth of his hand that Byleth finally finds his wits, his own hand joining in as well. This serves only to spur Dimitri on, his cock throbbing and hips jutting forward. 

"Beast that I am, there will be no doubt after I'm done with you," he lets out, his voice dark and honeyed. He presses against Byleth's hip, hard enough to bruise before flipping him over and immediately setting to work.

The kisses begin at his shoulders, Dimitri's mouth equal parts wicked and methodical as Byleth feels himself start to unravel, pressing his hips pathetically against the bed and praying for something— _ anything. _ When he finally feels where Dimitri's goal is. 

The moment he feels that hot breath against him, tongue seeking purchase and fingers moving in unison, Byleth sees stars. Mouth agape, hips desperately pressing back as Dimitri opens him up without a moment to waste, unabashed and unashamed. He uses his tongue like a weapon, back and forth in tandem with one finger, two, three. Byleth feels the voice escape his mouth, first shocked wimpers until he cannot speak at all, the pleasure rolling through him as he seeks purchase. 

It's then that Dimitri finally finds  _ that _ spot, his calloused fingers pressing as if he'd always been its keeper. "Fuck," Byleth cries out, biting on his own hand to keep from screaming and alerting the neighboring army tents. 

A small part of him no longer cares, and when Dimitri's fingers press against him over and over again, leaving him a whimpering, shuddering mess, he wonders if that's what the prince wants. It does not matter if Byleth has been touched by the goddess, because he's been marked by his prince—his king to be—irrevocably. What anyone thinks is of little import. 

Byleth feels dizzy, too close to finishing as Dimitri picks him up like a broken thing, cradling him with careful hands and tender touches. When he can finally think about anything besides the empty feeling Byleth realizes that he's already pressed against him once more, Dimitri's cock hot against his ass as their lips meet, Byleth desperate for them more than air to breathe. It's such a different feeling, face to face like this, and Byleth feels sick with it, pressing himself against Dimitri and rocking his hips, nails dragging through that dirty blonde hair.

"I've wanted this for so long," Byleth gasps out between bitten lips and small groans. 

It's only partly true. In the past he'd always assumed that he'd be the one to take Dimitri, see that flustered face wrecked with pleasure, but Byleth finds that he very much likes this. It feels right, in its own way, as he presses his forehead against Dimitri's, nodding his head over and over again before finally pressing himself down, down. 

Dimitri lets out a groan, immediately biting another mark onto Byleth's neck as he begins to fuck into that tight heat with earnest. While he'd been patient, worshipping Byleth's body without hesitation, it seems as if he cannot hold himself back any longer. Byleth's hips roll to meet his, neck pulled back and offering more, more.

Anything Dimitri wants, he will readily give it. His body, his blood, his unbeating heart. It was already his. 

Byleth feels everything in him burning, as hot as when he feels the magic surge inside of himself, more than. Dimitri himself seems to feel similarly, his strength always something he tended to be bashful about now used precisely to give him what he wants. When Dimitri drags his nails down Byleth's back, hard enough to redden, Byleth lets out a shaky breath, unsure of just how loud the two of them have been, lost in each other. 

He feels Dimitri's body tense, his cock throbbing inside of him and Byleth wants more than anything to feel this, to be like this with the man that he cannot fathom being without. 

"Dimitri—" he gasps out, pressing himself down and then pushing his lover down onto the bed. He keeps his hips down, doing his best to make his intentions clear as Dimitri continues to slam his against their match, mouth seeking Byleth's to capture a desperate kiss. 

When he finally comes, hard and fast, his hands keep Byleth's hips down, as close as can be. Seeing the shivers of pleasure run through Dimitri makes Byleth ache, happy and full of warmth. 

"Pr—Byleth," Dimitri groans out, exhaustion weighing heavy on his voice and limbs. His arm is wrapped around Byleth's body, holding him captive as he lays his head against Dimitri's chest. But there isn't anywhere else in the world he'd rather be.

Opening one tired eye, Dimitri smiles. His fingers drag themselves through Byleth's hair, leaning in for a sweet kiss. Everything in Byleth is exhausted and spent, but he supposes he should have expected the strong hand that finds its way to his hip, wrapping itself lazily around Byleth's still aching cock. 

"Mhm," Dimitri mutters, not wanting to stop the tender movements of his lips. Understanding anyway, Byleth lifts his hips slightly, letting Dimitri finish him, finally collapsing once his orgasm is finally wrought from his body. 

They're messy, ruined, and utterly spent. But there is something divine in this feeling as they press themselves against each other, seeking the other's warmth in cold winter air. The shadow of Fhirdiad is on the horizon, but it does not touch them or their thoughts, not right now. 

Byleth feels as the darkness of sleep threatens to take him, even as Dimitri's lips press loving words against his ears. 

"I do not deserve you," Dimitri says amongst the haze of dreams, arm still squeezing Byleth tighter. "But I will have you, all the same. You have saved me too many times to count, my beloved..."

Byleth does not hear the last words intended for him as the rhythmic movement of Dimitri's hand back and forth against his back lulls him to sleep, but knows them as deeply as he knows anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> [@magictomes](https://twitter.com/magictomes), open to prompts and currently writing lambert/rodrigue and slowburn dimitri/felix because i've lost control of my life.


End file.
